Beautiful Mirrors
by over-rainbow
Summary: Renocentric fic. Exploration into Reno's character. No angst, I'm glad to say. Set after the events of FF:AC, so spoilers are probably contained.


**Prologue**

Reno smirked as he twirled the glass in his hands, watching the amber liquid swirl around as he did so, blue eyes reflecting his vague amusement. Raising the glass to his lips and sipping slowly, he allowed his mind to think over the events of the day. It was true, that despite everything, he was rarely - if ever - challenged on his decision, whether it had actually been that or not, to become a Turk. The fact on whether it was a 'decision' or not, was a thought that had always, when considered, puzzled the red head. As such, he never spent much time thinking about it.

If he hadn't become a Turk… His life probably would have been spent on the street, in and out of various bars, and police stations. As it was, that premise didn't sound a whole lot different to his current state, except the actual meanings of the words were wholly different. And the police aspect. No officer would dare to arrest him – one sight of the blue 'uniform' was enough to make many completely ignore his presence, hoping that he would just go away.

Smirk still in place, he glanced around the room, to find only what he expected, stares hastily turned into quick flicks away, others blatantly refused to look in his direction. This never failed to amuse him. It was as if they, 'the people' had never heard of 'being off duty'. Of course, they obviously had, it just appeared that this didn't apply to anyone of a particular job description, which the Turks, in their minds eye, fell into. That, and they seemed to imagine that the Turks were a) insane, which, to Reno, was a complete fabrication, although even he had to admit you probably weren't **quite** right in the head if you willing did some of things that they had done in the past. Secondly, it was often presumed that they would kill someone on the spot for so much as looking at them. That too, was a lie. He couldn't quite speak for every single Turk that had lived, and was going to be, but as for the current team… Well, they did have some semblance of morals. Even **he** didn't going around shooting people 'just because'. That was just plain idiotic, and a damn good way to get yourself killed – something which Reno didn't plan on doing anytime soon.

Why make more enemies than you already have? And needlessly to boot? Being a Turk didn't exactly create friends.

Finishing his drink, Reno hastily ordered another. Something that was true, though, was the Turks infamous love of alcohol. He wasn't entirely sure whether that was a result of the job, or whether it was a personality trait that those in the job shared. Either way, Reno admitted as he received his drink, it was annoyingly true. If there was one thing that he hated, it was proving others stereotypes rights, but this was one that he couldn't fully avoid.

Sure, that was a lie, too. He could, he just didn't want to, not really. There were many nights, and most definitely mornings, where he figured that it would be a lot **easier **to give up booze, but, put simply, he was just too damn fond of it.

He almost chuckled, immediately thinking that many, especially psychiatrists, would probably put this down to 'guilt', 'remorse' and just general 'negative feelings' associated with the job that he held.

Which was most definitely not true.

If there was one reason **why** Reno had been chosen as a Turk – and he knew damn well that he wouldn't have made it otherwise – was his inability to **feel** guilty over a mission. It was simply that. A job, a mission, you move on. That was all there was to it. After all, you never saw anyone going on about soldiers killing each other during war unless they just so happened to kill the wrong person.

Hell, the only thing that separated him from 'good' people was the fact that in their eyes, he killed the 'good' people. In truth, or rather, how Reno saw it, everyone done something wrong in their life. There were **no** good people; all it came down to was a simple difference in opinion. Person A believes this, Group of People B believe that. Person A labeled 'bad guy'.

Unless Person A was just downright insane, all it was, was opinion.

Even if the general public couldn't agree with **that** point of view, had they even heard of balance? Almost everyone agreed in the good-evil balance 'thing', and …they were just there to keep the balance. Some days they killed people who didn't necessarily, in the eyes of the majority, deserve to die, others times they did.

It just pissed people off when it was someone they knew that got killed. Everything was fine and dandy if it was someone they didn't know, or had done something they didn't agree with.

Simple-minded people pissed him off.

Of course, this line of thought didn't help to maintain Reno's trademark 'happy' personality. Reno also happened to find that he got irritated if he found himself sinking into a bad mood, which just deepened said mood. That just simply confused him.

Stepping off the stool, he sauntered his way over to the pool table, a mixture of boredom, curiosity, and annoyance at his inability to do anything but reflect when he drank alone, he perched his bum on the edge of the table, before smiling at the group of – young – men that were in the middle of the game.

"Nice to meet ya, lads. Mind if I join in? Great, thanks," He commented, taking a cue from one that stood just off to his side. He ignored the various generic angry, and fearful looks he received, before tilting his head to one side, and staring the group up and down. "Aw, come on lads, I was bored by myself, aren't a single one of you gonna play against me?" He asked, pretending to pout, before laughing. He lent the cue against the table, and then stretched, placing his hands on top of his head, flattening his red hair, white shirt and navy jacket lifting up just enough to reveal a glimmer of his EMR. "Now, c'mon, don't be like that, I've got to get amusement in some way, doctors orders," he continued, more than a little annoyed at the complete lack of response. Normally there was at least **something**. He sighed. "You're hurting my feelings. You don't want to do that, do you?"

"Who do you want to play?" One of them, a shorter guy, black hair, no distinguishing features to discern him from the next Joe Bloggs from down the road, finally responded. Reno grinned.

"An' there I was, beginning to fear that you were all just gonna stand there and ignore me! Thought you might be suddenly mute, or somethin' " He stood up, one hand leaning against the table, fingers drumming a non-existent beat. "To be honest, I don't really give a damn about who I play. I was just hoping for a more interesting response than complete silence," he frowned. "Pool bores me," he shrugged. "Enjoy your game, mates," he replied, chucking the cue back at one of them. He wasn't sure if it was the same one as he'd taken it from, but whatever the case, the recipient mishandled it, and it dropped to the ground, clattering loudly in the now-unsurprisingly-quiet pub.

Reno glanced down at it, mock tutting, and turning away and starting to head back over towards the bar.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Reno didn't turn back around, instead he shook his head, pausing in his walk to reply.

"I have a drink I wouldn't mind finishing. If you'd **please**," Reno responded, with mock politeness. Pointless, random and unprovoked violence wasn't something that Reno was especially fond of – it lumped him in with thugs far to easily. Verbal sparring on the other hand… Now that was a completely different matter. But these guys had disappointed him.

Taking his seat back at the bar, Reno was unsurprised to hear footsteps following him, before a muttering of 'He's an arrogant, shit of a Turk, just leave it'. Reno shook his head, a small smile on his lips 'Damn, got me in one'.

Finishing his drink, Reno decided to leave this particular pub. He had pretty much exhausted its avenues of interest, which were not many. He half wished that he'd invited Rude, or even Tseng or …Elena out with him, but… He had just not been in the mood at all for company. As much as he liked Rude, especially, there was only so much time you could spend with a person before their personal quirks and habits began to annoy the hell out of you, and then, soon, it would be everything single little thing they did. Reno hated to be in that situation, because he knew that it didn't take much before he began to really dislike a person once that happened. So, he'd chosen to spend the evening alone, although he hadn't really meant it to be this alone. He occasionally wished that he had some 'proper' friends outside of work, but that would **never** happen – it was probably a good thing that this wish didn't occur often, then. How could anyone even begin to understand what his job was, and why he done it? If they couldn't do that, then they'd only end up resenting him, hating him for not being able to act as if he was sorry for everything that he'd done…Especially the bombing of Sector 7.

He hadn't enjoyed, or liked destroying that section of the city, but he couldn't say it **bothered** him. He'd grown up in the slums, and he dare say he knew some of those that had been killed in the blast, or the after effects of it. He wouldn't go so far as top say he didn't care, it just… Didn't have a lasting effect on him. Or really, any effect. He'd still been able to sleep the same after.

The slums… Reno frowned at the memory. With almost everything, Reno could find something amusing, or ironic about the situation, but not with the Slums. He was so glad he'd been able to escape that hellhole. In fact, if his own experience of growing up in the slums was anything like everyone else's, he could almost view it as if he'd done them a favour. There was not a chance that he would **ever** wilfully go back to living that life again. He didn't exactly live in luxury now, but compared to most, he was incredibly lucky. Shinra's current wages were nothing like what they used to be, not since Sephiroth first appeared… And then the Kadaj and his 'brothers' just threw the company into further problems.

Despite this, the President was still able to somehow pay them decent wages, enough to finance each of their housing bills, and 'extras'.

The President… Reno could smile at that, the thought of Rufus Shinra. The young President who refused to allow his father influence how others perceived him, or rather, tried to. As soon as anyone saw 'Shinra' in the name, their minds were made up about the sort of person that that person was. None of the Turks could ever seriously complain about their boss. He was good enough so far as superiors went, and what was more… He was their friend. Reno could say with complete honesty, that even if he wasn't paid the wages that he currently received, or had the same privileges, after everything that they had all been through, he **would** protect the President. He wouldn't consider it as sacrificing himself for the job; he would view it as saving a friend. Not many people were able to do that.

It was strange, in a way, how everything in his life was linked, from his life in the Slums, to his job as a Turk, to his mindset… It was all joined. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, it was just …odd to realise.

Kicking a loose stone along the cracked ground, Reno smiled. It was what one would class as a 'proper' smile. It showed no other emotions generally attributed to his smiles – smug, sly, sarcastic, provocative… It was just a smile.


End file.
